Will's body shivered from the quick, unexpected shifts from burning to freezing. Each time he would attempt to throw off the suffocating layers of blankets only to have them reappear by some unseen force. Time passed in a blur as Will's inflamed mind couldn't comprehend much in his condition. Instead, Will's thoughts and subconscious observations melted into a haze of hallucinations that came and disappeared as quickly as his temperature.

At first Abigail would appear, smiling down at him but soon her image was distorted into the crumpled heap that had been abandoned in the field of snow. Will could only stutter in discernable gibberish at her in his state.

There was only one truly pleasant dream, of Alana Bloom. She would appear suddenly like a ghost, by the window, at the foot of his bed, or stroking his cheek. It wasn't often but when she did appear she always had a soft smile resting on her lips. This was almost worse because unlike the others, he direly wished this dream would come true. It was a cruel enticement that mocked him.

Once or twice he thought he caught sight of Beverly's skirt brushing past outside his door. On only one occasion, he dreamt Beverly had come running up to him to shake him awake. She was frantic and begging for help but Will couldn't call back to her. Then she abruptly dropped him. He never saw where she went, but during another fit he thought he heard a scream. However, he couldn't be sure if it belonged to mirage Beverly or Abigail.

Worse than both was the hallucination of Randall Tier. He appeared several times, sometimes angry and bitter, others taunting and amused at Will's helplessness. Will never had the energy to reply to him, so he was condemned to listen to his rage or simply endure his uncomfortable glares and smiles.

There was only one encounter in which Will's subconscious allowed him to connect to Tier. Randall had been sitting in the chair in the far corner for close to three hours, originally coming to fix Will with a flaming angry stare. After a while his expression had shifted to one of bitter pleasure mixed with resentment. Will was using his usual tactic of ignoring him. Finally, Randall leaned forward and said, "It gives me satisfaction to watch you slowly dying. But it would have given me more satisfaction to kill you myself. I wanted to do it as the beast so I could sink my claws into your flesh."

Will scoffed at the comment. Today some unknown power possessed Will to respond to Randall. Still laying in bed and staring at the ceiling, Will pointedly said, "You were no beast. You were Hannibal's pet."

"Don't forget this pet killed Abigail," Randall spit. Will's jaw clenched.

"Under Hannibal's orders. Like a lapdog," he said smugly. "Tell me, what was that like? Being King Hannibal's lapdog."

Randall narrowed his eyes, then moved to stand over Will.

"Don't pretend as if you don't know," Randall Tier said, his calm demeanor sending a shiver through Will. "I hope you enjoy it, now that you've eliminated all other competition."

"I killed you for self-defense-," Will said.

"No," Randall said. "You killed me for revenge. For personal gain. Because Hannibal wanted you to. Because you wanted to. For the pleasure."

He turned to leave, and Will didn't stop him. Randall paused to add one final comment before leaving.

"You will make a fine lapdog. Hannibal will certainly be pleased," he said, bitterly. Then he looked back to spit at Will, "I hope your collar won't be too tight."

Randall Tier appeared a few more times, typically showered with blood and fur with the wound in his chest visible, his teeth warped into fangs and his fingers into claws. But he never spoke to Will again and Will never spoke to him. The hallucinations slowly became less frequent until finally, they stopped altogether.

After that Will was left with his thoughts which he was finally forced to face now that his fever had subsided. This gave him the energy he needed to push himself out of bed. He saw from his window that the snow had melted away to reveal the muddy field and barren trees. One morning he found the strength to leave his room. He was surprised to find the castle busy with movement as servants packed up.

"Excuse me," Will stopped a butler passing by with a chest. "Are we leaving the castle already?"

The man did a good job of concealing his look of confusion, but Will wasn't fooled.

"Sir, the king is returning to London," he explained. "He will be glad to hear that you are well enough to join him on his journey."

"London?" Will asked, squinting at the stream of light coming through the nearby window. "How long was I in bed?"

"You've been suffering from a severe chill for nearly three weeks sir," the man said. Will frowned, then nodded his head.

"Thank you," he said then added, "you may be on your way."

Will returned to his room, but found the door open. He half-expected Randall to be waiting behind the door. Instead Hannibal had poured him a glass of water.

"You must be parched after that fever," he said, offering the glass. Will didn't hesitate to cross the room to join Hannibal. He downed the glass.

"I must have been out for weeks," Will said. "The flowers have bloomed."

"I was worried you'd miss them," Hannibal said. "And I'm glad you'll be conscious for our journey home."

Will wondered when it had become our.

"It would have been such a shame if I had died out there in the snow," Will said, putting sting into his words. "Quite lucky I was able to kill Randall Tier. Unfortunate that Abigail can't say the same thing."

Hannibal's eye lit up with amusement at Will's agitation, which only served to vex Will further. He bit down his anger to hear Hannibal's reply.

"It is unfortunate that Abigail became tangled up in such deplorable matters," Hannibal said. "I had planned on inviting her to the castle year round."

"I'm sure you considered that before you killed her," Will said.

"I did not kill her," Hannibal said. "It was Abigail who fostered her own death. And it was Randall who killed her, with only minimal encouragement. You needed only a little more encouragement to kill Randall."

"Killing my friend is more than a little encouragement," Will hissed.

"You also killed my friend," Hannibal said. "And a dedicated employee."

"Then I guess we're even," Will said. "You took someone from me, I took someone from you. Who does that leave us with?"

"Each other," Hannibal said, pouring Will another glass. Will took it. "I'll call a servant to finish packing your things."

The king will be arriving shortly, and it is essential that he suspect nothing. How lucky that his personal guard suffered a severe illness and will most likely still be delirious, or at least distracted. Under these condition, England and its ruler stand no chance against Russia's fiercest warrior. The Dragon will ensure the downfall of the English crown.

Hope ya'll enjoyed that! If you did, leave a review! Even if you did, I love to hear feedback. Check back next week for the next update.